Cold Chains
by ChimeraDragon
Summary: Written for the ColdWave Week Challenge 2016 - Day 1: In Captivity


Leonard snarled as he pulled on chains that secured him to the grimy wall of his cell. His expression was one of pure, cold rage that wouldn't be contained, eyes practically glowing in the dim light. He pulled again, despite the blood that dripped from the cuts around the manacles.

"Such a vicious thing, isn't he?" a voice asked, female and sneering. High-heeled boots clicked on the bare cement floors, followed closely by another set of shoes, but much harder to identify.

"Mick..." Leonard growled, voice low and scratchy with none of his usual suave tones. He pulled on the chains again, the darkness of the cell hid his condition as he scrabbled towards the bars that ensured he'd still be in the cell even if he managed to get out of the chains.

"Not available," the woman taunted as she flounced up to the caged man. She flicked long blonde hair over her shoulder, artfully curled and primped, as she laughed at him. She ran a hand over her front to emphasize the curves of her body, somewhat concealed by the little black and red dress she wore. "But you can always give into me. I'm sure I can be perfect company for you. If you'd like."

Leonard snarled again, the sound more feral as he slammed himself against the chains again. "Mick!" he screamed, voice hoarse.

"Such a shame to let such a beautiful specimen go to waste, but until you're ready to listen to me and be a good boy... You'll just have to stay in there," the woman pouted her perfectly painted red lips.

Leonard let out another wordless sound of rage as he pulled harder and the metal holding him to the wall screamed in protest. The woman's eyes went wide as she backed away from the cell, fear clear on her face.

"Lenny!" a faint voice called, startling the woman out of her contemplation of the man before her. She gave her own snarl of rage as she swirled to leave, eyes murderous as she headed in the direction of the sound.

Leonard sank to his knees as soon as the woman was out of his sight. His whole body sagged, clearly exhausted, as he hit the floor with a low thump. His head nearly touched the filthy ground before him, as his arms were pulled taunt behind him.

"Leonard!" a different voice called, and the slumped man's head came up a bit as he cocked an ear to hear better. It was impossible to tell gender or anything distinct as he realized the voice was echoing to him from quite a distance.

"Len!" another voice called, a little closer. Probably female this time, but not the woman that had been taunting him before.

"Snart!" yet another new voice called as the sounds of a battle reached him. This voice was male, slightly nasal and with an accent.

"Lenny!" the first voice that had called his name echoed down the hallways. Deep and masculine. And familiar.

Leonard was on his feet again, excitement reaching through his thin frame. He pulled hard on the chains and the groaned against the abuse. "Mick!?" he called, not sure how far his own voice would reach. The _name_ was the only thing he could think of. The only thing that mattered was that name and the person attached to that name.

"Lenny!" the voice called back, clearer this time. Familiar to Leonard and filled him with the memory of warmth.

"Mick," Leonard begged, voice lower as a body wracking cough tore through him and took him to his knees again. He whined as the feeling of drowning came with the last few coughs. He closed his mouth and moved his tongue around, hoping to get the wad of ... blood, he realized as he spit it on the ground, out. He winced, throat one constant, sharp ache. "Mick," he whispered like a mantra.

"I heard him. I think it's this way," the voice, Mick, shouted. The sounds of footsteps coming together and heading towards Leonard gave the confined man hope.

"I think we're lost, Mr. Rory," the nasally male voice said, the accent was easier to hear this time. British if Leonard wasn't mistaken.

"No. We just gotta listen for him to shout again," Mick replied, voice tight with emotion. "Call for us again, Lenny!" Mick shouted.

Leonard opened his mouth to do as requested, but no sound came out the first few times. He took a moment to swallow and get a bit of spit in his mouth. "Mick!" he called, voice much quieter than before, but hopefully loud enough to be heard.

"I heard something that way," a new female voice offered. The thought of coffee and birds came to Leonard's mind and he gave a small smile to himself. That woman hadn't taken everything from him.

"You'll never reach my little pet," the woman that imprisoned him taunted, her voice carried farther than the others. She cackled and the sound of leather cracking against the air echoed loud enough to make Leonard want to cover his ears to keep the pain away. But the sound was only momentary as she didn't seem to crack the whip; his mind supplied helpfully, again.

"He's nobody's pet," Mick's low voice growled. "And unless you want to _burn_... I'd suggest you get the hell out of our way."

"You don't scare me. _Arsonist_ ," the woman taunted. "I; Forgeryia, will bow to no man."

"I ain't _askin_ ' you ta bow. I'm _tellin_ ' you to move your ass. Before I set you on _fire_ ," Mick countered, tone done with the whole conversation and the woman leading it.

Leonard let out a laugh that quickly led to a coughing fit that wracked his whole body so hard he ended up curled on his side on the filth coated floor. He hated the position, feeling weak and helpless but he didn't have a choice as his body betrayed him.

"I heard something!" a younger male voice called, excited about the discovery.

"Go check it out," Mick's voice ordered as a hissing sound faintly echoed to the cell. A sound that filled Leonard with warmth and worry in equal measure. The sounds of two sets of footsteps seemed to draw closer as Leonard tried to get his body back under his control. He wheezed as h fought for breathe and finally managed to stop the heaving coughs.

"Snart, you down here man?" the younger male voice called as the sounds of a fight started up.

"Jefferson, I don't know about leaving the others behind. What if they require our assistance?" a much older male voice asked. He didn't sound ancient, but older and well spoken.

"Dude, Grey, just can it for a few minutes. If they need us, they'll call. We gotta find Cold down here and get the heck out," Jefferson replied with an exasperated noise. Leonard felt a thrill of familiarity with the way 'cold' had been said. As a name or a title and not a description of the temperature.

"Mick?" Leonard managed to cough out, still on the ground and feeling every bit of air that crossed his vocal chords. He winced and curled into a tighter ball of pain and misery.

"I heard him!" Jefferson called.

"Indeed!" Grey replied and the sound of their hurried footsteps came closer for a few moments before stopping. "But not which way?"

"Make more noise, Snart! There's too many ways to get lost around here," Jefferson called, it was obvious that he was holding still to let Leonard reply.

"M'ck," Leonard managed, to grunt out. He moved a hand to rub over his face as he tried to get his body to stand again. The rattling of the chains against the ground startled hm a bit.

"Hey! I swear I heard Mick's name, and some chains!" Jefferson called excitedly. He must have hopped a bit as he moved down the corridor towards Leonard.

"Hm," Leonard thought out loud and started shaking the chains, hoping to lead his rescuers to him. The hissing sounds of the chains was loud, but he added a little flick of his wrists to make sure they struck the concrete on occasion to make a little more noise.

"Snart!" a young man with dark skin, and equally dark and close cropped hair, with a wide and bright grin called in the now familiar voice as he skidded to a stop before the bars of the cell. "Holy crap!" he added as he looked into the darkness and saw Leonard's crumpled form. He jerked on the bars but only for a moment.

"I am glad you have found our lost teammate, Jefferson, but we need to make sure we can find our way back," Grey; from the sound of his voice, called as he slowly stepped into view. His short white hair and glasses seemed familiar to Leonard who looked up with a frown. He knew they couldn't see him as well as he could see them and rattled his chains to let them know that he could see them before he let his head sink down to the floor. The relief he felt at seeing the familiar faces and hearing those familiar voices made him feel like his body had been drained of all it's energy.

"I think he's stuck," Jefferson replied with worry clearly evident in his voice, his hands touched the bars on the cell and he winced. "It's freezing!"

"Mr. Snart?" Grey called softly. "Can you get up? I'm not sure it would be wise for us to touch the bars."

"Hn," Leonard grunted in reply as he shook the chains again, body still lying limply on the cold concrete. He waited until they were looking at him and shook his head.

"I think he's lost his voice," Jefferson offered, tone a little shaky as he worked through it. "He was screaming for a while. Probably hurt something."

"I believe you have a good point there, Jefferson," Grey replied with a nod; more to himself than to either of the two men in the room with him. "We need to figure a way to get this cell open in a timely fashion."

"You wanna blast it, Grey?" Jefferson asked with an excited grin on his face, hand outstretched to the other, ready for the grip that would allow them to meld into Firestorm.

"Indeed!" Grey replied as he clasped hands with Jefferson. The two men light up with a bright flame as they merged into one form.

"Woah!" Firestorm shouted, flames sprouting from his head and hands as he stretched his arms a bit before he grabbed hold of the bars before them. "Stay back. This might get a little intense."

Leonard shivered but obediently tucked his head between his hands, making himself as small of a target as he could. He didn't say anything as he lay on the ground.

Firestorm looked at the bars for a moment, he gripped the metal and closed his eyes for a second. He pushed with his fire, the bars melted and he dragged his flaming hands over the metal to make an exit for them. "We're good! You need help?"

Leonard huffed as he lay on the floor, body too exhausted to move more than to uncurl a bit, letting his limbs relax a bit. He huffed out a breath at his rescuer, but made no other move to get up off the ground.

"Where is he?" Mick's voice growled as the sounds of several sets of feet in various kinds of footwear came down the corridor.

"In there. We just melted the bars off," Firestorm replied as he stepped back. The light from his flames reached a little further into the cell and gasps were heard outside the cell. "Holy ..."

"I'll get him," Mick's voice left no room for argument as the hissing noise from earlier stopped and heavy footfalls approached Leonard.

"Mick?" Leonard whispered hoarsely as he opened his eyes a little and looked up to see the familiar face of his partner. His mind tried to give him more, but he was so exhausted the couldn't think. He raised his head a bit and tried to give a reassuring smile, but he was certain the gesture failed when Mick's dark blue eyes widened.

"Lenny?" Mick's voice trembled as he reached a hand out to touch the chained man's shoulder. "What the hell did they do to you?"

Leonard moved until he could press his head into the arsonist's hand, looking for comfort. "Mick," he stated as though that was the only word he knew.

"Hey, kid, come in here and get these chains off him," Mick called over his shoulder, the light from Firestorm illuminated the conditions of the cell, dark and dank. Mildew choked the air, and puddles of muck and moisture dotted the area. As Firestorm stepped closer his fires revealed more. There were suspicious stains all over the ground with claw marks scattered over the area. Some looked like they'd been made with human hands and fingers... others did not. Mick's eyes drifted back to Leonard who was doing his best to crawl into Mick's lap.

"What did they do to him?" Firestorm asked, voice low and his fires banked a bit, dimming the light.

Leonard was filthy to say the least. His clothes were shredded in various spots, covered in muck and grime from the cell, and what looked like a significant amount of blood. His hair had grown out a bit, only a few inches, but enough to have it matted and snarled into a grungy mess. His wrists were purple and blue around the cuffs, cut deeply, dried and fresh blood mixed to run sluggishly down his arms and onto the edges of his iconic parka which wasn't much of a blue any more. The fur lining around the remains of the hood was a blackish brown color and matted as bad as Leonard's own hair. His boots were missing along with his socks and his feet were covered in brackish mud. "Mick..." Leonard sighed as his eyes drifted shut while his arms snaked around the other man's waist.

"Len, we need to get you up and out of here," Mick said as he tried to pry the slim arms from around his waist. He got a whine of protest as the seemingly limp arms became stronger than steel around him. Not squeezing but refusing to let go. "I'm not leavin' you. Just gotta move your arms to where I can pick you up."

Leonard opened his eyes again and looked up, bright blue clashing with darker blue for a moment before he loosened his grip. His face was covered in quite a bit of mud, but looked much cleaner than the rest of him. Leonard moved his arms from around Mick's waist to around his neck, refusing to lose contact with the bigger man. "Mick," he said insistently as he laid his head against the strong, broad chest before him and let a contented noise escape from his sore throat.

"We got'cha," Mick soothed as he managed to get to his feet despite the awkward weight in his arms, he turned back to see the rest of the team looking at with various looks of horror and sympathy. Even Rip looked like he wanted to kill something or say something, but he wisely kept his mouth shit before he could make Mick irritated.

"We can get him cleaned up and checked out back on the ship," Sara said softly, tone and face softer than any of them were used to seeing on a mission. It made Mick's skin crawl with nerves but he let the team flank him, protecting him and Len by having Sara and Firestorm in front while Rip and Kendra brought up the rear of their little party.

"Lead the way," Mick said, tone low to keep from bothering Len too much. They'd deal with everything else after they got Len away from this hell hole. He ignored the bodies they passed on the way to the Waverider, happy to let Len cling to him like a baby koala.

END.


End file.
